Friday morning I woke up to my mom asking me when Fall semester starts. August 25th is when my Food and Nutrition class starts. The question of why was uttered sleepily by me and the not so plain answer was "You're going to Canada." Oh. That certainly woke me up.
Fast forward to Saturday morning I woke up to be asked what I was going to wear for the wedding. Piles of scattered dresses and hangers later, my mom and I were on our way to JC Penney, Lola's free blank cheque in hand. After all, blank cheques are for shopping.
Hours later I was backed into a fitting room surrounded by dresses and hangers. Deja vu, much? My eyes just continued to narrow and my brows drew together as the dresses that continued to mock me were becoming worse and worse in style and fit (and would you believe, in smell). kasuigdbajbshbjh.
In actuality, I already had a dress I wanted. It was simple and comfortable. It was a nice, black dress. The kind that doesn't compete with bride's white (or near that color scheme) wedding dress However, my mom seemed intent in finding the holy grail of dresses. Or at least the dress she wanted me to wear. It was ridiculous to be having a fitting room war. I would glare at the door when I would hear a scuffle indicating my mom's presence outside bearing more dresses to be worn, like Santa Claus sneaking in through your chimney bearing either gifts or coals. My face grew stiff in an attempt to be apathetic.
When she finally found a dress she wanted I was ready to burst into tears of chaos and frustration. Finally. I was hungry. The holy grail dress was (how should I say this) perky for a long, brown dress. I guess having humongous red and orange print of flowers can do that. Alone in the fitting room with the holy grail dress, I was conversing with it, out of annoyance and hunger. I was apologizing that I didn't like it but I would like us to try and get along since we were going to spend more time together. I found that completely ridiculous but I somewhat felt better. At least I could be honest with the dress.
In case you find it curious that we were having a fitting room war, the truth was we were shopping for a wedding dress or a dress one when wears for a wedding. A dress I would wear for my cousin's wedding in Canada. SO now that you're up to speed, let's move along with the rest of my weekend blues. If none of you noticed, my mom can be a bit overbearing. I assure you that I know that she is overbearing for my own good and the wellness of my well-being. I doubly assure you that that is not sarcasm you hear.
Knowing that, you can probably deduce that the fitting room war continued to the battle of the heels. As I said, jdbbaskhabaKJK. Short story miniscule, it was a standoff between open toe wedge shoes and open toe stilletos. Their color, of course, matched the holy grail dress. The better heels won, and I am happy to declare that mine KO'd the other shoe. Woot. A small victory, but a victory no less.
In the end, the Queen gave in bought my mistress as well, the other dress, so to speak. And we all lived happily ever after. Yes, you can totally hear the trumpets rejoicing in the background.
July 29, 2008
June 25, 2008
beasts of dysfunction
I'm your typical good girl. The funny, quirky, nerdy, goody two shoes. Though with a good deal of sarcasm and fondness for being random. I obsess about getting the grade for my classes though I'm a bit lazy to study. I rarely get scolded by my parents. I'm too boring socially for them to worry about me getting wasted or trying out meth or some other high inducing drug. I'm too introverted to be seduced by going out with classmates I barely know and hanging out. I can hear you saying "You need a life." Hehe, not really. I like how I am and quite comfortable with my life. So what's the point then? You can already see that this is going to turn into a big, raging, hormonal rant, don't you?
No matter how perfect I desire to be I cannot ignore that I am still a beast of dysfunction. This is not a 'pity me' statement. Since it is the truth, after all. I believe that no one is perfect, not one can be. Despite push or pull, whether you devote your life to be one, perfection is just elusive that way. What I wish though is the freedom from being expected perfect. Perfection is not demanded but it is quite implied. Like a humongous dragon breathing down your neck, filling your lungs with smoke with your every inhale and possibly a crunchy meal next. I know that a lot is expected of me and my knowledge of that just annoys me.
I am the youngest child and youngest daughter in our family. Yes, those two qualifications are important. Growing up, my older sisters were already in college while I was still in grade school. I rarely saw them but I rarely failed to hear tales of their flaws or at least what grave mistakes merited a public rant from my parents. Disappointment laced their voices when they would share what my sisters did wrong. And I guess that sticks to a kid, it's one of those childhood sentiments that clung to you. I was always told, "Wag mong gayahin mga manang mo." (Don't be like your sisters). And my mind asked what exactly were my sisters? One married too early, and another didn't finish college but worked instead. I do not fault them for doing what they did. I saw them as independent people who made their own choices. I admit I was angry at my parents too, saying we were Christians but driving their children away. It did not make sense why we were that way.
I remember once when my brother and mother had a fight they both cried. I remember watching TV and having my back to them so they did not see tears on my face. My brother did not want dinner so I went to his room and lain their beside him. I did not have to look at him to know that he was crying. He was angry and hurt that they were thinking him ungrateful. He said that he did his best and he graduated from the academy for them. I did not say anything and just asked if he was going to eat. Appeasing him was unlike me when I did not want to choose sides. I love my parents and my brother, they were family. And family to me should not take sides.
I was not like my sisters, I grew up dependent on my parents. I still have the childish habit of holding on to my mom's shirt tail like a child would (although he being annoyed by it is a bonus). My father frowns when I hesitate to talk to other people as I try to shrink into myself. I believed my self to be not smart like my sisters, not talented enough, not pretty enough, not good enough. I am not like my brother, I do not have ambition. I do not have goals for my self. I do not have the initiative to do what I need to do. By being like them would I fail my parents too? By being myself would I remain mediocre?
I no longer wanted to be a child. When I was a child I was powerless, unable to voice my opinions. I experienced this when my mother told my sister to pack her things and leave our house. She was being sent away. I remembered following her to the room we shared and asking her if it was my fault she was being sent away. I told her that I would behave myself and not fight with her for the remote control if she did not leave. But she just shook her head and answered that no, it was not me but she had to leave. It was then I accepted that I could not remain a child anymore. Being a child was naive and pathetic so I grew up.
I cannot ignore the flaws and scars my family have. I tell my sister that my parents are different from their parents. They can only stand being with them for three days and no more. My parents when with my siblings turn into harsh critics which embarrasses me. This blog is not one sided, my parents are not the only ones in the wrong. A relationship is a two way street, they say. I believe that. I try and tell myself that if we weren't so self-absorbed then perhaps we could all reconcile without having to resort into having a three day countdown. Sometimes I am in the receiving end of my parent's harsh words and I admit that it still makes me feel small and weak. Whoever said words could not never harm should rot in a pit of verbal massacre. But I do not dwell in them anymore, especially when I did do something wrong. It's just so easy to cling to being hurt and angry. That just tires me out.
I will just continue to be myself, borrowing backbone from my sisters and ambition from my brother, and advice from my parents. Maybe by being me, I'll be free from being perfect. And that way I will be happy.
No matter how perfect I desire to be I cannot ignore that I am still a beast of dysfunction. This is not a 'pity me' statement. Since it is the truth, after all. I believe that no one is perfect, not one can be. Despite push or pull, whether you devote your life to be one, perfection is just elusive that way. What I wish though is the freedom from being expected perfect. Perfection is not demanded but it is quite implied. Like a humongous dragon breathing down your neck, filling your lungs with smoke with your every inhale and possibly a crunchy meal next. I know that a lot is expected of me and my knowledge of that just annoys me.
I am the youngest child and youngest daughter in our family. Yes, those two qualifications are important. Growing up, my older sisters were already in college while I was still in grade school. I rarely saw them but I rarely failed to hear tales of their flaws or at least what grave mistakes merited a public rant from my parents. Disappointment laced their voices when they would share what my sisters did wrong. And I guess that sticks to a kid, it's one of those childhood sentiments that clung to you. I was always told, "Wag mong gayahin mga manang mo." (Don't be like your sisters). And my mind asked what exactly were my sisters? One married too early, and another didn't finish college but worked instead. I do not fault them for doing what they did. I saw them as independent people who made their own choices. I admit I was angry at my parents too, saying we were Christians but driving their children away. It did not make sense why we were that way.
I remember once when my brother and mother had a fight they both cried. I remember watching TV and having my back to them so they did not see tears on my face. My brother did not want dinner so I went to his room and lain their beside him. I did not have to look at him to know that he was crying. He was angry and hurt that they were thinking him ungrateful. He said that he did his best and he graduated from the academy for them. I did not say anything and just asked if he was going to eat. Appeasing him was unlike me when I did not want to choose sides. I love my parents and my brother, they were family. And family to me should not take sides.
I was not like my sisters, I grew up dependent on my parents. I still have the childish habit of holding on to my mom's shirt tail like a child would (although he being annoyed by it is a bonus). My father frowns when I hesitate to talk to other people as I try to shrink into myself. I believed my self to be not smart like my sisters, not talented enough, not pretty enough, not good enough. I am not like my brother, I do not have ambition. I do not have goals for my self. I do not have the initiative to do what I need to do. By being like them would I fail my parents too? By being myself would I remain mediocre?
I no longer wanted to be a child. When I was a child I was powerless, unable to voice my opinions. I experienced this when my mother told my sister to pack her things and leave our house. She was being sent away. I remembered following her to the room we shared and asking her if it was my fault she was being sent away. I told her that I would behave myself and not fight with her for the remote control if she did not leave. But she just shook her head and answered that no, it was not me but she had to leave. It was then I accepted that I could not remain a child anymore. Being a child was naive and pathetic so I grew up.
I cannot ignore the flaws and scars my family have. I tell my sister that my parents are different from their parents. They can only stand being with them for three days and no more. My parents when with my siblings turn into harsh critics which embarrasses me. This blog is not one sided, my parents are not the only ones in the wrong. A relationship is a two way street, they say. I believe that. I try and tell myself that if we weren't so self-absorbed then perhaps we could all reconcile without having to resort into having a three day countdown. Sometimes I am in the receiving end of my parent's harsh words and I admit that it still makes me feel small and weak. Whoever said words could not never harm should rot in a pit of verbal massacre. But I do not dwell in them anymore, especially when I did do something wrong. It's just so easy to cling to being hurt and angry. That just tires me out.
I will just continue to be myself, borrowing backbone from my sisters and ambition from my brother, and advice from my parents. Maybe by being me, I'll be free from being perfect. And that way I will be happy.
June 18, 2008
I am Queen
Right now it is about 109 Fahrenheit. It is so hot that when I was outside in the parking lot I felt like I was burning or roasting without the flames. It was 111 Fahrenheit in my school earlier so that was probably a prelude to hell.
Anyway, my brain has undeniably fizzed out. Seriously. ME using multisyllabic verbiage is just a great concoction of your imaginations. Believe it. I only have three hours of sleep from the previous night and five hours from last night. That would have been sufficient enough if I didn't have any exams or whatnot. But my oh my, fancy meeting you here, I had a lab practical on cat veins, blood and lymphatics, plus our sheep hearts. Yeah, get over it. But wait! There's more...dun dun dun. I decided last night that I was going to take the Nurse Entrance Test Test (Duh. They call it the NET Test). Psh. I'm an idiot. That's an exam for about two hours on math, reading comprehension, reading rate, test taking skills, stress level, and an added bonus for me, hunger control. UNbelievable.
So, anyway, I took both exams earlier and I have yet to find out my lab practical result but I do know my NET test result. Let it be said for the record that that test was taken without any food in my system and lack of sleep...SO, let's just say that I passed. WooHoo. Okay, okay, so I scored better on my Math than the Comprehension. Big deal. Isn't it?? Yeah, it is. I scored better on my Math than the Comprehension. It's true. People who know me dear can attest that me and math are not tight but we manage. SO that was kind of a weird situation. I feel kinda bad since I am so much better at reading and comprehension. But my comprehension was non-existent today since I was just shy of passing out cold on the High Tech1 Building Room HT-143. Hunger and lack of sleep can do that to me.
I am Queen. Queen of Procrastination Hullabaloo. The reason that I took the NET test without preparation was 'cause I needed it as a requirement for my Nursing Application which I need to submit by Monday since I want to get in the Banner Program whose deadline for application is this Monday. Cheers for me. I am likely to kill myself before I can submit that application. SIgh. I need my Fingerprint Clearance Card since it is also a requirement but it will take three weeks or so to get to me. I am really, really not that optimistic about all this. But at least, I really am trying. The only reason I am rushing is 'cause I want to be considered for Estrella Mountain Community College's (school near our house) October Nursing Program. If I don't make the application I'll have to either wait for a year on the waitlist, or I could hope to be considered for the next batch which will be on March 2009 (Next Freaking Year) for Glendale Community College (college I go to right now which is farther from our house).
If my 2+2 did not equal 4 in your head, that is entirely my fault but your problem. Heh. :) Kidding. Yay me, Queen of PH.
Anyway, my brain has undeniably fizzed out. Seriously. ME using multisyllabic verbiage is just a great concoction of your imaginations. Believe it. I only have three hours of sleep from the previous night and five hours from last night. That would have been sufficient enough if I didn't have any exams or whatnot. But my oh my, fancy meeting you here, I had a lab practical on cat veins, blood and lymphatics, plus our sheep hearts. Yeah, get over it. But wait! There's more...dun dun dun. I decided last night that I was going to take the Nurse Entrance Test Test (Duh. They call it the NET Test). Psh. I'm an idiot. That's an exam for about two hours on math, reading comprehension, reading rate, test taking skills, stress level, and an added bonus for me, hunger control. UNbelievable.
So, anyway, I took both exams earlier and I have yet to find out my lab practical result but I do know my NET test result. Let it be said for the record that that test was taken without any food in my system and lack of sleep...SO, let's just say that I passed. WooHoo. Okay, okay, so I scored better on my Math than the Comprehension. Big deal. Isn't it?? Yeah, it is. I scored better on my Math than the Comprehension. It's true. People who know me dear can attest that me and math are not tight but we manage. SO that was kind of a weird situation. I feel kinda bad since I am so much better at reading and comprehension. But my comprehension was non-existent today since I was just shy of passing out cold on the High Tech1 Building Room HT-143. Hunger and lack of sleep can do that to me.
I am Queen. Queen of Procrastination Hullabaloo. The reason that I took the NET test without preparation was 'cause I needed it as a requirement for my Nursing Application which I need to submit by Monday since I want to get in the Banner Program whose deadline for application is this Monday. Cheers for me. I am likely to kill myself before I can submit that application. SIgh. I need my Fingerprint Clearance Card since it is also a requirement but it will take three weeks or so to get to me. I am really, really not that optimistic about all this. But at least, I really am trying. The only reason I am rushing is 'cause I want to be considered for Estrella Mountain Community College's (school near our house) October Nursing Program. If I don't make the application I'll have to either wait for a year on the waitlist, or I could hope to be considered for the next batch which will be on March 2009 (Next Freaking Year) for Glendale Community College (college I go to right now which is farther from our house).
If my 2+2 did not equal 4 in your head, that is entirely my fault but your problem. Heh. :) Kidding. Yay me, Queen of PH.
June 12, 2008
open up the moon for you
Second week of summer class is officially over. We've finished our first exam and our first lab practical. I've finally become used to once again waking up at 6 in the morning and arriving in school early enough to chat with fellow early classmates. I bring my daily fuel of chocolate and some other snack passable as food to last me for the day. And off the day starts with my whole six hours devoted to my AP (Anatomy & Physiology) prof, with me hanging on to his every word as he lectures through the endocrine system to cat dissection. Seriously, it's like sacrificing your first born child to the witch who caught you red handed in her garden. Why did the witch have a garden anyway? For her magickal potions and poisons perhaps? But I digress.
My professor isn't boring per se, he's just on a tight schedule is all. After all covering half of our text book in five weeks is not for the feint of heart. So I can quite understand his need to bring us along up to speed. But still, it is not easy to listen to him for six hours straight. He drones on and on with occasional side stories about people he knows or read about with a medical condition pertaining to our topic. It is funny to hear about his colleague who experimented with melanin and ended up making ridiculous amount of money for creating a sex enhancer. Or about the alarming story about his friend who developed a weird problem with the pericardium covering his heart when it became calcified like egg shell. Or that a dissected turtle heart placed in a saline solution would still be able to beat for two days due to its being myogenic. Who knew, right?
That's all lecture right there. That doesn't even count lab. Our first day in lab had me up in arms of cat insides. Seriously. Our cat was pretty big and fat. His liver was freakishly huge. We have a theory that he was an alcoholic or something. Arteries are fun to learn, like really. Sarcasm, much? I'm not complaining since I'm fascinated that every cat is unique. And that just means that you and I are very much unique too. Aww. Yeah, I'm just too perky for my taste. And if you're cringing and sobbing right now about me being inhumane and mutilating kitties, stop right there. It's part of the disclaimer in our lab class that we were working on cats that were just being neglected by society. They were the ones that were unable to live in homes with people to care for them. So they were euthanized to put them out of their misery or collected in body bags from road casualties. Which is still quite sad but that's better for me than the thought of them being abused somewhere.
Today we handled sheep hearts. Should I wait for that to sink in for awhile? (Kat, you big meanie! First, cats! Now, you talk about poor sheep? How could you?!) Yeah, I feel your outrage. But before you start the rotten vegetable target practice, bear with me awhile. I'm learning to be a nurse. And I need to be able to know what I'm doing if I be one. So I need to have knowledge on real body parts and familiarize myself with the big world in organs and veins and arteries. When I graduate and you become a patient of mine, I want you to be glad that I know my stuff so you can continue on with your stuff. I'd open up the moon for people if that would save them, but I doubt there's anything to be dissected there.
So now that you know that I'm trying my hardest right now, I hope that I'll be able to know my stuff to before our second exam on monday. SIgh. So much for all that.
My professor isn't boring per se, he's just on a tight schedule is all. After all covering half of our text book in five weeks is not for the feint of heart. So I can quite understand his need to bring us along up to speed. But still, it is not easy to listen to him for six hours straight. He drones on and on with occasional side stories about people he knows or read about with a medical condition pertaining to our topic. It is funny to hear about his colleague who experimented with melanin and ended up making ridiculous amount of money for creating a sex enhancer. Or about the alarming story about his friend who developed a weird problem with the pericardium covering his heart when it became calcified like egg shell. Or that a dissected turtle heart placed in a saline solution would still be able to beat for two days due to its being myogenic. Who knew, right?
That's all lecture right there. That doesn't even count lab. Our first day in lab had me up in arms of cat insides. Seriously. Our cat was pretty big and fat. His liver was freakishly huge. We have a theory that he was an alcoholic or something. Arteries are fun to learn, like really. Sarcasm, much? I'm not complaining since I'm fascinated that every cat is unique. And that just means that you and I are very much unique too. Aww. Yeah, I'm just too perky for my taste. And if you're cringing and sobbing right now about me being inhumane and mutilating kitties, stop right there. It's part of the disclaimer in our lab class that we were working on cats that were just being neglected by society. They were the ones that were unable to live in homes with people to care for them. So they were euthanized to put them out of their misery or collected in body bags from road casualties. Which is still quite sad but that's better for me than the thought of them being abused somewhere.
Today we handled sheep hearts. Should I wait for that to sink in for awhile? (Kat, you big meanie! First, cats! Now, you talk about poor sheep? How could you?!) Yeah, I feel your outrage. But before you start the rotten vegetable target practice, bear with me awhile. I'm learning to be a nurse. And I need to be able to know what I'm doing if I be one. So I need to have knowledge on real body parts and familiarize myself with the big world in organs and veins and arteries. When I graduate and you become a patient of mine, I want you to be glad that I know my stuff so you can continue on with your stuff. I'd open up the moon for people if that would save them, but I doubt there's anything to be dissected there.
So now that you know that I'm trying my hardest right now, I hope that I'll be able to know my stuff to before our second exam on monday. SIgh. So much for all that.
May 21, 2008
Sensible Sounds Kindly Shut Up.
I'm done taking my pre-requisites, all I need is one co-requisite, and an application packet and I'm set. All I need to do is wait for my application to be processed and hopefully be accepted in the Nursing Program this year. So why am I dilly dallying?
I'm 19. I'm considered a grown up. Heck, I am grown up. And yet, I still twiddle my thumbs and bury myself in the land of Lala. Does anyone else have the same problem? Many times I wish for a How To Manual or An Idiot's Guide to Growing Up. Please. No matter how mature you get you still quake in your dolled up shoes when you have to go through something new. I guess that's one of the rules.
The first time I was in a plane was a domestic flight to Cebu. That wasn't so scary since I was with my parents. And the naive me was yet to know that Cebu was in the Philippines. The next plane rides were more fun and was just routine that now I can board a plane alone for international flights. And no, Arizona is far from the Philippines.
The first time I was in school was me being too young to remember. All I can remember is learning to write in short hand and being annoyed since my penmanship sucked. Maybe it's because if those black, jumbo pencils. Now I can attest that I know how to write in cursive but it still sucks. I've been to nine different schools since and being a college student, like all the previous levels still has both pros and cons. The only difference is my classmates are not of my race and I actually pay attention in class to the point of being called a nerd.
The first time I drove a car was with my mom in the Farm. She wanted me to learn so she let me take out our van for a drive. It wasn't that nerve wracking since it was an automatic car. Later I would learn how to drive a stick shift, or a manual car. That was harder and earned me more frustrated lectures from my dad and annoyed glares from my older brother who expected me to learn in a day. Suffice to say, that wasn't an easy process and three years later I'm still an amateur in parking and avoiding curbs.
The first time I drove myself to school via the freeway alone in my car, I was gripping the steering wheel so hard. I was tense and unable to fill my lungs with enough oxygen for survival. I arrived in school with ample time to shake off my trembling limbs and prevent tears of joy from leaking. Driving home was better, I was gripping the steering wheel less, and I could breathe easier. All in all I survived and now I can drive with one hand and half of my brain memorizing previous class lectures.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I've taken many single steps, and I guess It'll take time when I can run to my destination. I'm still a frog in a well, I don't know how great the ocean is. I guess wanting to grow up is different from actually being a grown up. I can say it's freakier and more troublesome but it's not something I can avoid if I want to reach my goals. Years ago I didn't know what I wanted to be, and now I am wanting to be something. Move forward, that's all I can do. Mada mada dane (You still have lots to learn).
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